“Do you really want to go to Aerenal?” Kandler had asked after a quiet moment.
“No. I—I just wanted to make sure you wanted me around.”
Kandler had sat up. “Have I given you any reason to think I didn’t?”
Guilt had welled up in her for even giving voice to these thoughts, but she had pressed on. “You married my mother, not me.”
“You were always part of the package. I never thought otherwise.”
“Did you always want the whole package?”
Kandler had hesitated then, and she had waited for the lies to start. To her relief, though, he had spoken as honestly with her as ever.
“No,” he had said. “When I found out your mother had a child, it bothered me at first. The kind of work I do, it’s not easy to have a child around, even an elf-child, but …” “But? ”
“I don’t know when it happened really. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact spot, but I came to think of you as my child too.” He had torn his eyes from the sky and gazed back at Esprë where she lay on the ground. She had smiled up at him.
“I’m not going to start calling you ‘Father.’ ”
He had beamed down at her. “I can live with that.”
“Then I accept your vow.”
What Kandler hadn’t known then—and still didn’t know now—was that Esprë had made a similar vow to herself that night. She’d sworn to take care of him too, no matter what.
“Let them go,” Esprë said.
As she spoke, she felt the dragonmark on her back start to itch. She wondered if Ledenstrae or Majeeda would have been able to see the mark change if she hadn’t already covered it back up.
“Once Majeeda and I are done talking,” Ledenstrae said. “This is important. In fact, you could say your life depends on it.”
Esprë felt the black energy from her dragonmark start to spread across her shoulders and feed down her arms.
“This isn’t your decision to make,” she said. “It’s mine.” She narrowed her eyes at her father. “You’d really kill your own daughter?”
The elf arched an eyebrow at Esprë. “If she wasn’t mature enough to make such a decision herself.” He leaned forward. “If I found myself in your shoes, and the entire fate of my race depended on my death, I’d toss myself into the nearest volcano just to make sure there was no trace of me left to resurrect.”
Majeeda eyelids rustled like dry leaves as she batted them at the girl. “Young lady, you are fortunate that we are bothering to having this conversation at all. Many of our ancestors would have simply killed you on the spot rather than risk even a hint of the Mark of Death be found in their blood.”
“Maybe I have spent too much time among humans then,” said Esprë. “I don’t feel that lucky at all.”
The black power reached her hands then, and they began to glow. Her fingers felt like she had dipped them in ice, and they hungered for something warm in which they could bathe to relieve the sensation.
“Let them go,” she said again.
Majeeda gave Esprë a condescending smile at the threat in her voice. “Or else what?” Then she glanced down at the young elf’s glowing hands and burst into a dry, hacking laughter.
“My dear,” she said. “Do you think your dragonmark holds any power over me? I am long since dead. Do you mean to threaten to kill me if I do not release your two friends?” She giggled again, and it sounded like rain falling on a mound of brown leaves.
“No,” Esprë said. “Not you.”
Her hands shot out and grabbed her father’s arm. He yelped in pain and surprise and crumpled into his chair like a smacked child. Despite this, he seemed unable to pull himself free, as if all his muscles had knotted up at once, paralyzing him in his contorted state.
“Let them go, or my father dies.”
26
As Ledenstrae s tower loomed larger, Sallah pulled back on the airship’s speed. They would be there in a matter of seconds, but then what?
“How is Te’oma?” she shouted out over the rushing winds and the crackling of the Phoenix’s ring of elemental fire.
“She will be fine,” Xalt called back. “I put out the fire in her wings, and Monja should have her healed up soon.”
“Fantastic!” Sallah said. “Hold on to something tight.”
“Why is that?” Xalt said, standing up, confused.
Sallah tore a gauntleted hand free from the ship’s wheel and pointed at the tower toward which they were headed. She could see the balcony right there, the one from which Ledenstrae had come when she, Burch, and Kandler had visited him. The trellises and arbors that covered the area hid the occupants from view—if there were any.
Sallah wondered if they’d gone to all this trouble for nothing. Perhaps Kandler and Esprë had managed to work things out amicably with Ledenstrae. Maybe Duro had sacrificed himself for nothing. Maybe they weren’t coming to the rescue but had made a horrible mistake.
Every instinct in her, though, told her that they had no time to lose. Then she remembered something.
“Bring Te’oma here!” she said.
Without even a nod, Xalt knelt next to the changeling to carry out Sallah’s order. He slipped his arms underneath her, ignoring Monja’s protests.
“She’s not healed yet,” the halfling said. “I need more time.”
“Sallah needs her now,” Xalt said, standing up and hefting Te’oma in his arms. The changeling clutched at him, her back arching in pain.
“I know what she wants,” Te’oma said, her voice a weak rasp as Xalt clambered up on to the bridge with the changeling in his arms. “Tell her that we have to go in now. Otherwise, they will all die.”
Xalt looked to the knight.
“I heard her,” Sallah said. “Grab one of those safety straps on the console or the rail. We’re going in!”
Majeeda stared at Esprë, then threw back her wizened head, and laughed.
“Such bravery can only be found in the young,” Majeeda said. “Why would you think I would care about your father’s fate?”
Esprë nearly let loose her grip on Ledenstrae’s arm.
“Do you imagine your powers might work on me, little one?” Majeeda asked. “Perhaps you should give them a try. Perhaps that’s not the Mark of Death you carry after all. You might be able to harm me.”
Majeeda leered at the girl, and Esprë saw the barely repressed madness dancing in the ancient elf’s eyes.
“On the other hand,” the deathless wizard said, “you might not.”
Esprë paid no attention to that last bit. She had another voice in her head, demanding a different answer from her altogether.
Are you hurt? Te’oma asked.
“Majeeda is here,” Esprë said out loud. “She’s frozen Kandler and Burch with her magic, and she plans to kill us all. Gome help now!”
Majeeda narrowed her eyes at the girl. “To whom are you talking?” She glanced toward the only entrance into the balcony, but no one was there.
Ledenstrae groaned in fear and pain, and Esprë felt his clammy sweat growing beneath her palms. Something had to happen here soon, or she would end up killing him for sure. She feared if she let him go she would lose the last bit of leverage she had against Majeeda.
Threatening her father’s life hadn’t seemed to shake the wizard much, but it was the only thing that Esprë had. She considered telling Majeeda that she would throw herself off the balcony if she didn’t let Kandler and Burch go, but that would only give the wizard what she wanted.
“If Ledenstrae dies,” she said to Majeeda, “your dreams of going home die along with him.”
Majeeda stiffened at these words, and the mirth fled from her face. Esprë twisted herself around behind her father, putting his tortured form between herself and the wizard. As she did, she allowed herself a vicious grin.